CW: mental health, suicide
We are the silent ones. Moving underneath society like sewer rats, afraid of setting foot on the surface just in case we are caught. We see the world how others may not see it, from underneath in the dark. We dare not speak, scuttling aroundhopelessly, trying not to take up room. We hide our faces. They are too hideous for human consumption.
We are those that are taught that being in pain every day is how life is because “stress is normal”. Those who turn up to the doctor and the best advice the doctor can give is “Try harder and be mindful” The ones who have to track down their own therapists as the doctor refused to refer us as we are “not suicidal enough”. The ones whose physical conditions are taken more seriously than our mental health. The people who slip through the net because we don’t look mentally ill.
We are those who will never receive an assessment for learning disabilities because the school can’t spend £400 on students who achieve average grades. We are not their priority. Those who are expected to jump through higher and higher hoops without the relevant mental health support they need. We are not worth the investment or the time while we provide them with the grades they need to be the best in the country. Those who struggle every day and somehow get by but don’t know if they will the next. It is considered that we are fine because we can still work. It is never considered that the work is only completed because of our determination to walk through fire.
We are those who have the internal scream. Those that see the lights as too bright, amplified music too loud and a room full of people intimidating. We don’t know what is wrong. We can’t communicate why we are in pain because we don’t know what is wrong ourselves. We are merely deemed and deem ourselves as antisocial or weird.
We are those who can’t speak out because our families believe mental illness is not family friendly. We have to hide our meds and the broken pieces of ourselves because it makes people too uncomfortable. When we discuss what makes us anxious the conversation quickly turns to something else. We have to pretend to be what the people around us want us to be, turning into shape shifters and losing who we are in order to appease those around us.
We are those who can successfully mask our differences or illnesses because we have been trained to do so. The ones who have invisible scars all over our bodies from the places we have been. The people who lay awake at night trying to process the past but never seem to move forward. Those who truly understand and have seen the worst part of human nature. We go through the motions of normality while suppressing the truth that we see, trying desperately to resolve how we feel with how people want us to be.
We are those who spend our time in our rooms writing everything we feel down because we have nowhere else to turn. We lose ourselves in a world that we create with words and sound, the only thing within our control. Through them, we create new systems, new passages underneath society that can take us to wherever we want to go. We can go out into the hills where we can see the entire city, sparkling with lights under a sky filled with stars. We can go to the edge of the fabric of the universe and fly through black holes. We have been through so much, but somehow, we can find the light in the darkness. But you will never see this. You will never see the systems, hear the music or read the words that we havebeen written.
We are the voices you will never hear.